


Fireplace

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Forehead Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Cuddles and kisses- gay old men doing love tersely
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus, Barnabas Bennett/Mordechai Lukas, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Fireplace

Barnabas had the softest hair. Mousey brown with the slightest slithers of a deep grey poking up at the roots, each strand was delicate and together they were rather wavy though easy enough to manipulate between Jonah’s thin fingers as he carded his fingernails down the wake of Barnabas’s parting- enjoying the soothed shiver the sensation caused within Barnabas as the stout man settled between his legs. They were with the study, the pair of them sharing a close proximity upon the expensive loveseat before the grand fireplace that heated the room till toasty, beating back the cold Jonah would often whine about anyway. Jonah was laid on his back, head resting against the cushioned arm of the seat and his torso covered by the tired lump that was Barnabas Bennett. The brunet had dropped his face into Jonah’s midriff and as ever the clingy member of their quaint party, wrapped his arms around Jonah to squeeze persistently as the corset that cinched Jonah quite finely. He’d mumbled something about a rough day, needing comfort, but Jonah was too caught up in his amusement in that fact that it was him he sought for this comfort over anyone else in the world.

So Jonah had smiled softly, gotten himself comfortable and settled for what must have been an hour of obtuse silence where only the fireplace was allowed to crack and pop as it enthusiastically devoured each log placed within it’s waiting maw. The silence was obtuse because Jonah was bored. No statement to read, no book to critique- usually when bored Jonah would speak, Jonah would speak and speak and speak until the words felt hoarse and he had finally tired the topic out. But with Barnabas seeking comforting, the fondness Jonah rarely tended to, had kept him silent.

But fondness could only last so long and Jonah was getting switchy.

He exhaled, one last tenuous connection to patience hanging in his throat as he absently toyed with it and shifted back slightly, sitting up as Barnabas’s face dropped to his lap and the male whined rather unbecomingly for a man of his status. Jonah quickly settled his hand in Barnabas’s hair again, raking his nails along the man's scalp and satisfying his ever persistent need for touch. Jonah blinked, finding himself smiling for no apparent reason. Barnabas had a bad effect.

Looking up Jonah glanced around the study of one Mordechai Lukas, as always there was a desk for documents by the large window overlooking the lonesome woods beyond as well as a further two walls seeded with oak bookcases and the wall with the fireplace before the very chair he was sitting on. There was a hunger in his eyes as he took in the sight of books stretching up to the ceiling and populating the width of the walls- there were trinkets, pretty things though disused and disregarded, these did not matter to Jonah. No, the books were the interesting part with all of the varying widths and heights, piled together with no apparent organisational system that made the roof of Jonah’s mouth dry as he looked upon it with distaste. If a man could not organise things, what sort of man was he? As if he’d asked the question out loud he turned to Mordechai himself, the man sat in a matching armchair about two metres away. Mordechai was reading, another thick tome full of dust and forgotten people, or rather he had been reading- now the book lay upon his lap and he was looking up, dead grey eyes fixating upon Jonah with his ever uncanny ability to tell just when Jonah would turn petulant.

“So then my dear Jonah.” The prefix of dear was often used regardless of Mordechai’s more then turbulent relationship with social customs, Jonah supposed he liked the way it sent a pang down his spine as it so often reminded him things Jonah could not have. “What do you think has Barnabus here so moody- the sulkiness is dampening my atmosphere.” Breath and bereft of care, Mordechai as ever was obnoxious with his teasing but with Jonah’s face so free to peer about, it was easy enough to see the speckles of mirth that dashed stars into the usually void nature of his eyes. Ever so charming with his little quirks that only the pair on the couch were privy to viewing, as Jonah didn’t think Mordechai’s own son had ever seen him smile before.

“I think the poor babe is tired out, certainly squeezing me like I'm his teddy bear.” Jonah answered backs, lips unwary as they smiled in return and he chuckled, turning his attention to Barnabas who was very clear in ignoring their jabs. 

“Well you are looking rather soft. You’ll have to excuse me if I make the mistake as well- perhaps we should put him to bed.” The tall man had stood up, unwinding his muscular form from where it had been hunched and making long carefree strides towards the couch where he now stood before the arm and grinned fiendishly- ignoring the scandalised expression Jonah held.

Before Jonah had really the chance to produce some low and irritable insult Barnabas had slackened his grasp and born his freckled face with a scowl. “You can both be very rude, you know. Some of us actually have jobs, and those jobs can be very straining.” He muttered, brow furrowed at the pair though clearly not entirely angry as he still accepted a quick peck on the cheek when Jonah offered it as a peace offering.

“You heard him Mordechai, you can be very rude.” Jonah hummed, voice sweet and honey as his expression grew cattish.

“I suppose I can be,” Mordechai murmured, voice deep and husky with disuse and naturalness as he scratched his beard thoughtfully, “You’ll have to forgive me my darling Barnabas and my dearest Jonah.”

A kiss was pressed between both men and as usual- Jonah complained of the cold.


End file.
